Hope Against Hope
by FireflyFanatic3x
Summary: An angsty Faberry fic set during WWII based on 'The Boy in Striped Pyjamas', following the story of Quinn and Rachel from the ages of 8 through until 14. Rated T for themes of death, torture and genocide. Let me know what you thought of it. I am thinking of writing an epilogue, so there may be a little more to come... thank you to 'm-pow' on tumblr for letting me use her graphic!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – story starts out when they're 8, so the writing was supposed to be simplistic like a child's thought process … not sure it came off that way though... -.-**

***WARNING* – this is a fanfic based off the film 'The Boy in Striped Pyjamas' – IT'S GOING TO BE SAD. So yeah... major angst, as well as cute innocent, young!Quinn and young!Rachel fluff in parts…**

**You have been warned! I take absolutely no responsibility for any injury you may sustain to the feels!**

_**Hope Against Hope**_

Quinn sat on the dry earth, running her fingers gently along the fence in front of her. The heat of a German August was making her new dress stick to her skin, as sweat began to slowly seep from her every pore. She looked up to the sky for a moment, squinting at the sun as it beamed down on her, a harsh brightness that actually hurt.

As she sat, waiting in the summer heat, she began humming to herself. She picked up a small twig and began poking at the ground with it, rather absent mindedly drawing lines and squiggles in the dirt, as she sat, cross legged, in front of the wire fence; waiting.

She was waiting for her friend. She was waiting for Rachel.

It was funny, they had only met a few weeks ago, but already, Quinn knew Rachel was special; a very close, special friend. Even closer than all the friends she'd had at school.

She liked coming to see Rachel because it was nice to have friends. And every day when she'd sneak out of the house, through the back gate, she'd go running through the forest, so excited to see Rachel again. She had a pretty smile, that made Quinn feel happy and warm inside, and she loved to be with her.

But she liked coming to see Rachel most of all, because she was lonely. She had no one except her sister, who was quite a bit older than her, and had never been interested in much the same things as Quinn. She didn't like to play with her little sister, and was always making fun of what she did. When they'd moved house, Quinn had had to leave all her friends behind. She didn't even go to school anymore! Instead, a man (who always smelled funny to her – she'd never trusted him), came to teach them, five days a week.

She loved her mother, and she knew her father was a soldier, somebody she was very proud of, because he was fighting and helping them to win the war. But mother never seemed to want to play with her, she just cried a lot, and father never had time for her. He was always telling her to '_Leave me alone for a moment' _or '_Not right now, Quinn! '_and '_Go and study! You must have some homework you can do?_'.

Quinn hated her homework. It was lots of writing and reading about boring things she didn't understand. So instead of doing homework, she would go into the back garden, and she would climb up the tree, crawl across the branch until she was near the gate, then clamber over it, onto the other side.

She loved running through the forest, she felt so free when she did. The feel of the grass and the flowers beneath her fingers as she moved between them, her legs going as fast as they would carry her. And, eventually, she would reach the edge of the woods, where there was a lot of dry earth, and the farm.

It was a strange farm. She'd known that from the start. It was strange because they were always burning things, and it sometimes smelled funny, like really bad cooking. And everyone they wore funny blue and white, striped pyjamas. Rachel wore them too.

"Quinn!"a voice called, suddenly pulling Quinn from her daydream. She looked up and a huge smile grew on her face as she saw Rachel standing right in front of her, just beyond the fence.

"Rachel,"she smiled, standing up to meet her, "I didn't think you were going to come, I've been here for ages!"

"I had to sneak away while they were giving bread out, and it was really crowded." she replied, smiling a little now she could see Quinn.

"Oh yeah, bread." Quinn said as they both sat down together, crossing their legs on the dusty ground, only feet away from each other, but separated by a cruel wire fence. "I brought you some food, like I said I would. I took some bread from the kitchen, and I have an apple too." she said, digging her hand into the bag she'd brought, rummaging around until she finally found the items she was describing. "Here." she said, handing them to her, through the gaps in the wire.

"Thank you." Rachel smiled, before biting, rather aggressively into the bread. Quinn knew that bite. It was the way she'd seen her sister eat after mother had not let her eat anything all day, because she'd been naughty.

Quinn sighed. Why was her friend so hungry? It made her sad to think that she didn't get food, like her sister hadn't, because that had been a punishment for being bad, but Rachel hadn't been bad. So why wasn't she allowed to eat?

When Rachel had finished the bread and the apple, they played a game of I-spy, a game they both really enjoyed.

"Hmm…" Rachel said, thinking hard. "P … P … Pine tree?" she asked eventually.

"Nope, not pine tree."

"I don't know!" she protested.

"Alright, I'll tell you." Quinn finally said as Rachel gave in. "_Princess._"

Rachel paused for a moment. Quinn was too busy basking in her moment of glory, smiling radiantly at her friend, to see the expression on her face.

"But that's not fair!" Rachel protested, "You can't cheat!"

"I'm not cheating!"

"But there's no princess … you have to say things you can _see_."

"I know!" replied the small blonde girl, "But _you're _a princess."

Rachel paused for a moment. "What?"

"Well… you're very pretty, like a princess. Only princesses are as pretty as you you are. And you're very nice, you speak like a princess too … although, princesses usually have long hair, and you don't have any..." she finished, her voice trailing off as she tried to figure that one out.

Rachel smiled. "That's very nice Quinn … I don't think I am though. Princesses don't live in horrible places, they live in Castles, far away. I think _you're_ the princess." Rachel looked up into her eyes as she spoke, looking into those perfect, hazel eyes. It was like looking into a whole galaxy of golden stars. She was definitely pretty enough to be a princess, maybe even an angel.

"Not all of them!" Quinn protested, "Some of them are locked away in towers, or live in caves and dungeons, guarded by evil dragons …they to be rescued! Maybe I'm the handsome prince." Quinn burst out, triumphantly, nodding her head. "That's it, I'm the prince, and I've got to save you, take you away to my Castle where we can live happily ever after, and we can be friends forever!"

Soon the game of I-spy was lost in the excitement the two little girls' found from just being children, and talking about princesses and princes, and what it would be like to be royal, how nice it would be to not have the fence between them, to escape back to Quinn's house.

After some time, as evening drew in and the sun began to creep behind gathering clouds, they had to say their goodbyes and leave. Rachel knew if she wasn't back in time for the bell, she'd get a beating, or worse, and Quinn had to get home anyway. She couldn't stay out too long, because mother and father became suspicious and starting asking where she was.

On her way back, as she strolled happily through the woods, Quinn thought about everything they'd been through, everything they'd done already. They'd only been friends for a few weeks, but already they were best friends. She recalled the first time that they met, when she'd gone exploring for the first time…

She'd been running through the grass, in the woods, playing aeroplanes, imaging the sounds she would make if she could fly, up there in the sky, with all the birds and aeroplanes. She could see them sometimes, she could always hear them too – they were noisy, and they looked like dark birds, shooting across the sky so fast she didn't always turn around in time.

She'd been walking like this, her head in the clouds as usual, when suddenly she stopped, realising she'd reached the end of the woods. It was strange, as though all the grass suddenly stopped, and all the trees just decided not to grow. There weren't even tree stumps, they hadn't been cut down, they just hadn't grown. Instead, there was just dry earth, with a few small patches of dry grass and weeds, but little else. But what intrigued her most, was the fence. She'd finally reached the strange farm she could see from her bedroom window.

She approached it a little warily. Though she'd never admit it, she was a little frightened of what might be there. Why else would they have a fence? Sometimes farmers got really cross when you went near their land, and she didn't want to upset anyone.

But instead of finding an angry farmer, she'd come across a worker; someone small, sitting down, cross legged on the ground, right up against the fence. At first she assumed it was a little boy, because she was wearing a strange hat, and it looked like she didn't have any hair, but when Quinn drew near, the person looked up. A pretty girl lifted her head and squinted up at her.

"Hello." Quinn said softly as she approached the girl.

She lifted her head, surprised to hear someone near to her, the other side of the fence. She paused for a moment, studying her. She was a girl; beautiful blonde hair and a lovely smile painted onto her face. She was wearing a simple, but nice dress. It made her sad to think of all the dresses she would never wear again. But she too smiled. Someone was here, she had company.

"Hello." she finally replied.

Quinn's eyebrows furrowed as a question popped into her head. "Why are you sitting on the ground like that?"

"Because I'm tired and I don't want to stand up anymore."

A minute of silence fell between them until Quinn stepped forward and she too sat down, crossing her legs like the girl opposite her. She knew he dress would get dirty; sitting in the dust like this, and mother would be so angry. But she wanted to make friends.

"I'm Quinn." she announced, putting her hand forward, through the fence to shake hands.

But the girl drew back, shocked and obviously scared for a moment.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you … I just wanted to shake your hand."

"It's okay." the girl replied. She reached forward and took Quinn's hand, shaking it gently before letting it go and saying, "My name is Rachel."

Rachel, it turned out, was the same age as her. They were both eight years old, and they both liked dolls. In fact they had a lot of things in common, but they were also very different. For one thing, Rachel worked on this strange farm, and Quinn's father was a soldier. She didn't have any hair either, which Quinn had found peculiar.

But now she walked, only thinking about how much she wanted to see Rachel again, as she trudged through the woods, heading home.

-o- -o- -o-

Rachel smiled. "I'm so glad you're here." she said quietly, "It makes it easier; having someone to talk to."

"I'm always here, whenever you want to talk to me, whatever you need – just ask. You know I'll do anything for you." Quinn urged, tearing up a little as she looked at her princess.

Rachel's face was badly bruised. She could barely open one eye, and there were blue and purple marks all over her cheeks and one of her teeth was chipped; but that wasn't the worst! She had a deep gash on her forehead that obviously hadn't been seen to, and she was wincing with practically every move she made. She had obviously been badly beaten. Quinn couldn't help but tear up.

She'd been dragged away and beaten – twelve years old and beaten almost to the point of death by a grown man. It tore Quinn apart to see her friend like this; so broken, so hurt, and in this hell.

It had been a long time since she'd been under the illusion that Rachel was residing in a farm. She knew now what hell her friend was trapped in, and every day she couldn't get her out, she was determined to make a little easier for her by simply being there. But now she wasn't sure she was actually doing any good. When she really reflected, and looked inside herself, as she often did; she had to question – was she doing this for Rachel? Or for herself? Or perhaps, they were one in the same – she needed to be with Rachel, she loved her; they were so close. But it was because of her love for Rachel and her need for her to be okay, that she would keep visiting and keep her company.

"You need something for that." whispered Quinn, still fighting back tears, but determined to stay strong; for Rachel's sake. "I will be back soon, I promise!" she said as she got up, touched Rachel's hand for a moment and then turned in the direction of her house.

As she headed back home, she picked up her pace. Rachel needed her; she needed help and any moment she could be taken away again. Those wounds would go unseen to, and Rachel could catch an infection, it was so dirty in that place! That was one thing Quinn knew about, one thing she had remembered from the smelly old man who came to tutor her all the time; if wounds get dirty, sometimes they can get infected. And some bad infections can make you die. She wasn't about to let that happen to Rachel, her princess.

It didn't take long for her to make it back to house, but it was the sneaking back out again, with a bag full of bandages and water that was the problem.

"I'm coming Rachel, hold on." she muttered, rather absent-mindedly as she rummaged through the medical cupboard, taking as many things as she could without it being glaringly obvious that supplies were missing.

Her family were constantly asking questions about where she went; it had been years since she'd started sneaking out to find the concentration camp, to see Rachel again, but she always found a new excuse. _'I just like the forest; I like exploring. It makes me feel happy to be around all that nature.' _or _'I'm just going for a walk. I can walk, can't I?' _and _'I'm going to the hill to read; there's such a lovely view up there!'_ were amongst her most common.

Of course, her parents had warned her away from the camp, as they knew, were she to go wondering, she would certainly stumble upon it.

"Oh no, of course not!" she said, "I would never go near that place! It's full of _Jews_, why would I want to be near _that_?"

It pained her so much to say it, nothing was a poorer reflection of her real feelings towards that place, but she didn't have a choice. She had to convince her family that she wasn't going anywhere near the camp for them to be satisfied, to let her keep going out for hours at at time.

Thankfully, she had to make no such excuse or statement this time, as she managed to return, steal what she needed, and leave again without being noticed – thank goodness for television! While her father was always busy in his office, ordering the murder of hundreds of people no doubt, most of the time, the rest of her family were sitting around, mindlessly absorbing whatever rubbish filled the black and white screen in their living room.

She wanted so desperately to believe in her father, she loved him; she always had, and up until this point in her life, she'd never been given any reason not to trust him. She wanted him to be a good man, a hero, but it was impossible to see him that way anymore. She couldn't hide away from what he did any longer, and while she was not stupid enough to confront him about it, she could no longer respect him as the great man she once saw him as. It was a never-ending conflict within her. She loved her family, and she wanted to be a part of it. But she could _never _commit herself to being a part of a war that was killing so many innocent people. It wasn't really a war at all – the people in that camp – old women, children, disabled people … they never stood a chance. There was no fight; only defeat and the torture that followed…

Quinn came to a stop, breathing heavily. She had finally reached the edge of the woods, where the trees stopped and she took a step closer to hell on earth. She paused for a moment, looking around, checking to make sure there were no more guards in sight. When satisfied, she ran towards where Rachel still sat, her head down, and collapsed to her knees in front of her.

"Rachel?" she asked, tentatively.

Her princess raised her head and looked into her eyes. And, as though only just seeing her, her face lit up. A smile began to grow across her face. "Quinn..." she whispered.

"It's okay." Quinn reply, reaching out, as far through the wire as she could, the cursed fence that seemed to get tighter and more of an obstruction with each day they grew older.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a cloth, which she promptly soaked in water. "Come here." she said, and Rachel shuffled forward a little, wincing and obviously in pain.

"I'm sorry." Quinn said, upset to see her in so much pain. She reached forward with her hand and began dabbing at Rachel's head wound, gently, careful not to press too hard and cause her more pain.

"It's not your fault..." Rachel replied.

"No, but I still feel guilty … I don't like standing by and watching this happen to you..."

Rachel stopped and pulled away for a moment, looking up at Quinn, looking into her eyes. "Quinn … except for my parents, who are not with me now, I have never been so loved or cared for, by anyone. In this place, you are my reason to get up in the morning, you're the reason I'm still alive. You give me hope, and look at you! You're here, a German girl, daughter of Gestapo officer of all people! And you're cleaning the wounds of a Jewish girl through the fence that keeps us apart. You're my saving grace, Quinn, my angel." she began to tear up as she let the words come out, "I couldn't have asked for a better friend. You are so wonderful to me, even though you don't have to be. You're my angel Quinn, and none of this is your fault."

A tear escaped Quinn's eye. She could not have asked for a better friend either. It just broke her heart that she couldn't take her away from all this. It was so unfair that two girls, who were just the same, should live in two entirely separate worlds. Rachel was tortured and beaten. She was starved and made to work hard for nothing. And herself? She was living in luxury, a beautiful house set in the beautiful countryside.

But what hurt her the most – Rachel was lovely, and she was saying what she needed to hear. But it wasn't true. It _was _Quinn's fault that Rachel was beaten. Maybe not every other day, but today it was. Today it was entirely Quinn's fault.

They'd been sitting, earlier that day, either side of the fence again, smiling at one another and talking. They'd talked about so many things, but the conversation moved to their feelings, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were standing, their hands pressed together against the wire, as they kissed.

Quinn had leaned in first, pursing her lips slightly as she pressed her face against the fence, and Rachel rose up, her lips meeting Quinn's. It was the perfect kiss – gentle, intimate and passionate. Then they'd pulled apart and just stared at one another, looking into each other's eyes. They couldn't help but smile. Despite where they were, despite their separation, despite _everything, _they'd just shared the perfect moment, the perfect kiss.

Quinn didn't know how long they'd been standing there, looking into each other's eyes; it could have been forever, all she remembered was looking up and her eyes widening in horror. Walking towards them, shouting as he picked up his pace, was a guard.

"Rachel…" Quinn breathed, as her face began to shake a little in horror.

Rachel turned, and upon seeing the officer running towards them, she turned back to Quinn and whispered, "Hide! Quickly! Quinn, go, please!" she urged.

So she did. Quinn turned and ran. She darted behind the nearest, biggest bush she could find, and waited, her heart in her throat. They'd been caught … what was going to happen? Then it came – the sound she would never be able to blot out of her mind.

That man beat her. The guard, a grown man, kicked, punched and spat on Rachel until she lay on the floor unable to move.

"WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO?" he demanded.

"No one!" Rachel screamed, in agonising pain, coughing and doubling over as he punched her, hard, in the stomach.

"YOU WERE TALKING TO SOMEONE YOU PIECE OF FILTH!" he screamed back, kicking her in the face, "THERE WAS SOMEONE THERE! WHO WAS IT?"

"I don't know! There was no one there! I'm alone!" Rachel wailed, openly crying as she screamed again and again, crying out in pain.

Quinn remained there, hiding behind the bush, unable to move, with her hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks, desperately trying to contain the screams she wanted to let out. She couldn't stand it. She wanted to run away and hide, to make it go away, that sound; the sound of the girl she loved, her princess, being beaten, the sound of her crying out in pain and screaming that she was alone... She was begging him to stop, she was screaming for help, and no one came. Because no one cared…

"I should have done something. I should have told him it was me." Quinn said, a tear rolling down her cheek as she carefully dabbed the wound again, ringing out the cloth and all the blood onto the ground. She couldn't help but think how much blood this ground had been watered with … _too_ much.

"It's okay. If you had let him see you, you would have gotten in trouble! And I would probably be dead – if they knew I was talking to the officer's daughter, they'd kill me."

"I'm just sorry you have to go through this." Quinn whispered. "Here," she said, offering some water.

Rachel leaned up, opening her mouth as Quinn tipped the bottle so that the fresh water poured over her cracked lips and down her throat.

"Thank you." Rachel managed, as she finished, and raised her arm to wipe her face, a mixture of blood, sweat and water moistening her sleeve.

A moment of silence fell between them, and for some time, Quinn couldn't look Rachel in the eye. Eventually she looked up and, barely able to get a sound out, breathed, "I … I have to go."

Rachel smiled up at her. "I know … I will see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be back. I promise." Quinn said, braving a smile for her friend.

-o- -o- -o-

Rachel sat, staring through the fence longingly. Many years she'd sat there, in that same spot, staring through the wire, wishing she could be on the other side. She often thought about what she would gamble to be on the other side. Would she give her life to cease her suffering here, and be buried over there; a free woman? Were it not for Quinn, she would, in a moment. But her angel made things a little more complicated. She gave her reason to stay, reason to carry on. She gave Rachel the one thing she needed more than any other, the only thing that kept her going – she gave her _hope_.

Quinn sat too, staring from her own bedroom window. She wanted so desperately to go the camp, to sit with Rachel, just to talk and be with her. But they'd both learned their lesson the hard way; it wasn't always as simple as that. The more often they saw each other, the more suspicious both the guards and Quinn's family would get. So they saw each other what felt like quite seldom now; only once every couple of days, for an hour or so.

Being apart for so long made them cherish the moments they had together more, but neither could deny the feelings of dread that the other would not come. Quinn was constantly having nightmares where she would go to that same place they always met, only to see Rachel's beaten corpse. Or worse still, to wait and have her never turn up.

Sometimes Rachel wasn't there; she was in a concentration camp after all, she couldn't always get away. But there was one time that Quinn sat there, for almost four hours, just waiting. She had never felt such terror in her entire life. The reality that one day she may wake up and the burning smells that now made her nauseous, could include Rachel. It was the cold and hard reality that Rachel was most likely going to die; _everyone_ in there was going to die if the war didn't end soon.

There had been a time once as well, when Quinn had dared to confront her father about it. It was in the beginning, when she was starting to question what went on that place, and he'd gotten harsh with her. Though she was asking questions, as any child would, as naïve as her, and he'd almost shouted at her.

"Everyone in there is evil Quinn! They deserve whatever they get."

She couldn't look up into his eyes, which were wide and burning with anger and hatred. That was her first breaking point; the first delusional step she'd fallen from. People were _dying _in that place, and her father genuinely believed that they all deserved to suffer.

_What kind of war is this?_ - the question she constantly asked herself from that day forward. That was, until she was thirteen, and had found her answer: This wasn't a war. Her father wasn't a soldier. He was a murderer; a coward who ordered the executions of hundreds of innocent people, _daily_. He wasn't fighting a battle; no one was. They were walking all over Europe, trampling all those who were different underfoot, crushing the innocent and the weak because they weren't _perfect_.

Each day she watched from her window as smoke rose; the sickening smell of bodies burning. Every day she looked out and cried for those in there who must suffer. Each day she suffered her own battle, in silence, biting her tongue to keep back the harsh retorts she wanted to scream at the injustice all around her. She was close to tipping point. Her father's words would soon be enough to push her over the edge and she would snap. It was coming… any day now.

In the meantime, however, she resolved to get as much time as she could with Rachel. She wanted to help her. She wanted to help _everyone_. It felt as though she was the only sane person left in the country. So it was her job, her responsibility to free everyone, to make things better. Nothing left her feeling more helpless and useless than knowing she couldn't do anything. She couldn't save everyone. But if it took everything she had, if it cost her her life, she would save Rachel.

She visited her late that afternoon. It was Quinn's turn to sit alone in front of the fence, as the sun sank a little lower in the sky and a chill fell over the place. She sat, shivering a little; partly from the cold, but mostly in fear. She could feel her heart in her throat, beating heavily against her as her breathing grew heavier. _Where was she? _That familiar, searing pain, the dread that something might have happened sank in, as she sat out in the cold. She waited for almost an hour before she finally saw a figure in the distance, making her way towards the fence.

For a moment, Quinn just sat, staring, unsure. As she grew nearer and it became clear it was Rachel walking towards her, Quinn's whole body breathed a huge sigh of relief, as she untensed, and smiled, tearing up at seeing Rachel again.

"I thought you wouldn't come." she said, "I thought…" but she couldn't finish the sentence. Rachel nodded, understanding her pain, the insecurity they both felt each time they sat, alone at the fence.

"I'm here now." Rachel whispered, leaning closer to the fence.

Then they began. There wasn't much time for words, and neither of them had anything to say. They had long since exhausted all points of conversation; protesting at the injustice of life, the war, and their situation. There was nothing left to say, only the immense feelings they had for one another to share.

They leaned toward one another and kissed, their whole bodies releasing all their built up tension as their lips met and everything around them dissolved.

This was why they loved kissing one another. This was why the loved each other – because when they were together, when they talked, when they touched and kissed … nothing else mattered, and for a brief moment in time they were completely lost. All the pain faded to the background, all the wounds stop hurting, and the injustice of everything was blacked out by their feelings for one another.

The blood rushed through their bodies, coursing through their veins so quickly they could feel each other's pulses, beating against one another as they leaned into the fence, creating as much physical contact with one another as possible. It was beautiful; a moment of beauty in the darkness all around them. It was worth it.

So they stood there, as the evening drew in, kissing, moving in and out of each other all afternoon…

-o- -o- -o-

Not a year had passed, and yet inside, both girls had long since grown up. Rachel, beaten daily and raped on a regular basis, felt something less than a person, not quite whole. Her encounters with Quinn, the knowledge she was out there, and would soon be beside her, was all that kept her sane. Quinn, though only fourteen, had been an adult for some time. Every day that passed aged her far more than it should have, and she had long since left all pretences of childhood and that innocence she once possessed long behind her.

Though her family didn't know about her relationship with Rachel (which she was not stupid enough to talk about), or exactly what she did with her time, but her father's control on her life had become considerably stronger and more constricting.

She recalled the argument, the day she'd been pushed over the edge, beyond her breaking point, her final threshold…

"The Jews are evil, Quinn, you know that!" her father shouted.

"Not all of them!" she screamed back, as she began to fight the tears that welled up behind her strong façade, "I was born into this family, I was raised here, the son of a Gestapo officer, and that makes me a good person? If I was born into a different family, if my parents had been Jewish, I would be evil, even if I was exactly the same person?"

"It doesn't work like that, Quinn." He retorted. Then he lowered his voice, "And you will show me some _respect_." he hissed.

A moment of silence fell in the room until Quinn looked up into her father's eyes, took a breath, and uttered, "I will show my father respect the day he earns it. And respect is not earned by killing innocent people."

The entire scene at the dinner table had long since been completely silent. The entire family, her father included, paused, momentarily in shock at her audacity. Before waiting for him to find a retort, she pushed aside her plate and left the table, letting her chair fall to the ground as she stormed up to her room.

Thankfully, it was her mother who later visited her. She came into her room, looking pale and weary; she'd obviously been crying. She moved toward Quinn and sat down on the bed next to her. After pausing for a moment, she said, "Quinn … what has got into you, lately?"

With tears in her eyes, she turned to her mother. "I can't live in this house. I can't be here, knowing that that … _monster _is here too." she paused, breaking off as a tear escaped her eye, "They're innocent people, mother … and they're dying by the hundreds."

"You think this is easy?" she asked, looking at her daughter with a stern, but obviously pained look.

Quinn squinted a little, confused.

"I have to live here too! I have to put up with the horrors that go on over there, and under this roof! But to defy your father, to disrespect his work so openly like that! You should know better! What do you think yelling about it is going to do?"

Quinn stared blankly for a moment, trying to absorb the new information. Perhaps her mother was not as cold hearted, or ignorant as she'd presumed. She took a deep breath, then looked up into her eyes. "I have to do _something_. People are dying, and if I'm the only one who can see that's wrong, then I have to do something about it."

"Quinn, this is war!"

Quinn stood up and turned to look at her mother. "No," she said, "This isn't war. It's genocide."

Her mother paused for a moment, stood and then, before leaving the room, she added, "Right now they are the same thing. You will accept that and learn to carry on, as you must. All wars end one day, Quinn."

As she left, closing the door behind her, Quinn sat down on the floor and let herself cry. She didn't often let herself go like that, she didn't like letting herself be so weak, when Rachel, who suffered so much more, still remained strong. But it was too much for her at the moment, and Rachel wasn't here. She was over there, in that hell; the love of her life, suffering endlessly. So for the moment, Quinn let herself cry.

That had been just over a week ago. Since then she'd been pushed, once again by her father, and unable to take it any longer, she completely let herself go. She didn't hold back, she didn't lower her voice. She didn't care.

"You kill innocent people, over and over again! Old women, disabled girls, _children, _being beaten, gassed, burned ... how can you ask me to believe in a cause that butchers innocent people?" she shouted, tears welling up as she confronted him.

"Nobody is innocent, Quinn." He replied, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Gaining confidence with each word, her voice grew louder, "No, you're right. You are far from innocent father! You have blood on your hands; blood that will never go away, because you can't undo the atrocities you've committed!"

"Silence, Quinn!" he interrupted, practically livid.

"No!" she shouted back, "I will not be silenced! Because you cannot drown out the sound of thousands of innocent people being tortured and killed while you stand by and do nothing because you're a coward!"

"SILENCE!" he screamed, moving forward.

She moved back to avoid him, backing into the hallway, but she continued to shout, "Only a coward kills civilians – the innocent, the weak , the vulnerable. You aren't a soldier fighting a war! You're a _coward, _committing genocide!"

It was too much. As she reached her crescendo, screaming at the top of her lungs, his eyes glowered and he raised his hand. He brought it forward with such a force, Quinn was knocked completely off her feet. She stumbled back, against the wall, then slid down to the floor in a heap.

After the moment of shock was over, he moved forward again, stepping closer to her, and she stood up, shaking and terrified. For a moment she thought he was going to hit her again, but after he considered it, he unclenched his fist slowly. For a minute they just stared at each other, and when Quinn made to move away, he grabbed her arm, holding her back, with a little more force than was necessary.

"You will go to your room, Quinn. And you will remain there until you apologise. You won't eat or drink, and you will stay in there, until you come to me for forgiveness." he hissed. "You will learn your place in this family... and if you ever speak to me like that again," he paused, "you will spend the night in that camp with your precious friends."

After a short pause, he slowly let her go, and she looked up into his eyes, defiant once again, despite the tears, and muttered, "Don't wait up."

So that was why she was here, running as fast as her legs would carry her through the woods. She'd escaped her room, climbing out of the window and along the roof of the house, jumping down into her garden, beyond the now bolted gate. Despite injuring her leg in doing so, she now ran, as fast as she could, fighting back tears as she moved, with all her might, towards the camp.

Despite it being so late in the day, Rachel was still there, hiding behind the large piles of wood, visible only to those either close behind her or on the other side of the fence.

"Quinn!" she exclaimed, upon seeing her.

Quinn didn't reply, but instead moved towards her and put her hands against the wire; that stupid, cursed wire that demanded separation. She leaned in and once again their lips met, as she let herself go and the tears streaked slowly down her soft cheeks.

"Quinn what's wrong?" Rachel asked as they pulled apart.

"Everything …" she replied. "Everything, Rachel. The world is so wrong, everything's broken. You're there, I'm here … it's not fair! I just want to set you free … I want to help you, and I feel so helpless, not being able to do anything about it."

Rachel stared into her eyes, pained to see her hurting so much. "Quinn … you're everything to me. You're my angel – you're the only reason I'm still here! You've done all you can. I know if you could, you would get me out."

"It's not enough." she replied, defiantly, upset at the frustrating injustice of it all.

Quinn pressed her hands against the fence desperately, searching for the familiar touch of Rachel's fingers.

"I love you..." she whispered, as another tear escaped her eye. Rachel's hands rose to meet hers as their fingers touched; both of them now too old to fit their arms through the meshed wire.

"I know." she replied, "I love you too."

They stood, for a moment, absorbing the silence, and the pain of that moment; the pain they shared, their longing for one another, until Quinn pulled away and looked Rachel in the eye.

"I'm getting you out." she said. "Tonight."

"Quinn …"

"My father is furious with me; I argued with him and he sent me to my room, to stay there until I would apologise. So I sneaked out … when he realises I'm missing, he'll come searching for me, and this is the first place he'll look! We won't be able to see each other again, they'll separate us!" she paused for a moment. "I'll go back, I'll get a shovel and even if it takes all night, I will dig you out of here. We'll run away, from all of this … and we can be together, forever. We'll get out of Germany, we'll go somewhere quiet, somewhere faraway. And everything will be fine. It has to be … I …" she broke off, unable to finish.

Rachel simply stared at her, so much deep affection and sympathy in her eyes. "One day I will see liberty, Quinn. We'll leave this place and we'll be free." she said, moving her head, desperately trying to catch Quinn's eyes, too look into them and assure her everything was going to be fine. She had to be strong, she had to keep Quinn hopeful. But truthfully, she knew she wasn't getting out, not tonight. She could already hear the guards approaching…

She leaned forward, kissing Quinn one last time. She would love the last thing she felt to be Quinn's tender touch, the feel of her lips against her own.

As they pulled apart again, Quinn gasped in shock when she looked up to see several Gestapo officers standing just behind Rachel, their faces absolutely livid with fury and hatred. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage, heavy and terrified, as though desperately trying to escape. She suddenly felt very cold, and for a moment, she completely stopped breathing. She had never been more scared in her entire life.

One of the men grabbed Rachel's arm, but she didn't even turn to look at him. Instead, her eyes remained fix on Quinn, her angel. "Quinn!" she said, tearing up as she spoke. This would be the last time she saw her.

Then they struck her, over and over, dragging her cruelly away as her feet trailed on the floor behind her.

"NO!" Quinn screamed, pushing herself up against the fence, and tears began to pour. "NO! RACHEL! _RACHEL!" _she wailed, clawing at the wire for all it was worth.

"QUINN!" Rachel screamed as she was dragged away.

The guards were yelling something about how she was going to be made an example of, how kissing someone on the other side of the fence, a _girl_ no less, was despicable. They called her all kinds of things, screaming and spitting at her as they dragged her away, kicking and screaming, tearing her away from the fence, but neither of them could really hear it. The only sound that reached Quinn's ears was Rachel's screams. They echoed inside her, piercing her soul; cold and cruel, as she was dragged away. Still shouting and screaming for all it was worth, Quinn began to attack the fence. She kicked, clawed, grabbed and hit the fence as the tears streamed down her face, cold, bitter, painful and free.

"RACHEL!" she screamed. The words actually hurt as they left her throat, knowing they would be some of the last things she got to say to her. "RACHEL! NO! NO, STOP IT! PLEASE! RACHEL!"

All she wanted in this moment was to reach her, to be able to hold her Rachel, and tell her it was okay, but she couldn't. Still separated by the way society saw the two women, essentially the same, they were left to scream for one another, still worlds apart in their separation.

"QUINN!" Rachel screamed, her face now stained with blood and tears, "QUINN!" Then she began crying something in Hebrew; a prayer of some kind, resorting to her mother-tongue in her last moments. One word stood out amongst the rest, and it hit Quinn's heart like a canon-ball. _Mal-ach_; 'angel'.

Rachel had told her that word, so many years ago, when they were just children; when they still had hope. And now, that one word struck Quinn, biting to her very core, and she could do nothing but weep as she pressed herself against the fence, screaming for her love. Because she wasn't an angel, she wasn't her saving grace. She was just a person, one small girl, a cog in the machine of society that exploits, abuses and murders innocent people. She could do nothing but watch as the love of her life was taken from her, out to be beaten and killed. She was nothing special, and right in that moment it really hit her how useless and helpless she was – she couldn't do anything to save her. For all her efforts, for everything she'd tried; she had failed.

As Rachel was dragged from view, out of Quinn's eye-line, she began to move, running around the side of the fence, following them as they took her away. She continued to scream, calling and crying out for Rachel as she moved.

She reached the front gate, where she screamed desperately at the officers to let her through! "No, let me through! Please! LET ME THROUGH! I am General Fabray's daughter! Let me in!"

The guard stepped aside, and without waiting for any others to react, she bolted through, pushing past him. "RACHEL!" she screamed, as the guards holding her looked up and upon seeing her, waved their arms, shouting for Quinn's restraint.

"QUINN!" Rachel called, and for a moment, they caught one another's eyes. That look, that one look tore Quinn apart.

Still running towards her, as far and as fast as she could, Quinn pushed aside an officer who approached her. Pushing through the guards, with some new, unbound strength, she managed to reach Rachel. Throwing their arms, they gripped one another tight, embracing for the first and last time.

Their moment lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough.

"I love you." Quinn whispered, frantically, in desperation as the tears fell freely from her eyes, streaming down her face. She gripped Rachel tight, even as the hands now taking hold of her began to pull her away.

"I love you too you, Quinn!" Rachel replied as they were once again torn apart.

Quinn reached out, stretching her arms as far as they would go, desperate not to let Rachel go.

"No!" she screamed, more desperate than ever. "STOP! PLEASE! STOP IT, PLEASE!" she cried as one of the guards punched Rachel in the face and dragged her off.

She was taken from her sight as Quinn desperately fought against the many arms holding her back. Several other guards had to be called to restrain her, but she didn't care; she didn't even notice.

"RACHEL!" she screamed, one last time as Raachel disappeared from view with the guards, and Quinn was left alone, still struggling to break free, to be with her one last time; even if just to let her know she was not alone. She wouldn't let her die alone. She couldn't …

Then it came, the horror of it resounding into the night.

Quinn convulsed, her whole body shaking for a moment in the shock of it. She collapsed, her entire body going numb. She fell to the ground, unable to breathe, feeling her heart stop in her chest as she heard it.

The sound resounded, echoing into the night like a wail of evil, and her whole world dissolved around her in an instant. It weakened her to a point she could no longer stand and her face displayed the anguish and shock she felt, as she could _feel_ the sound, vibrating through her entire body – the deafening crack of a gunshot…

**A/N – First – thank you so much for reading my fic! It means a lot and I would **_**really **_**appreciate a review! :)**

**Okay, so, down to business – I'm sorry for all the suffering I've caused you, it's cruel I know, but angst is all I can write apparently.**

**I dedicate this fic 100% to my friend (herekumsfaberritana – tumblr) as I write Faberry for her. This fic was inspired by some graphics I saw during Faberry week, and she asked for someone to write a fic about The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, so I thought I'd give it a go…**

_**And lastly, but probably most importantly – I don't actually watch glee. I've watched a total of one episode. So if they're out of character, or if it's terrible – that's why. **_**I completely and utterly blame herekumsfaberritana for making me ship them when I haven't seen seen the show!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here it is, as many of you asked – the short sequel to my 'Hope Against Hope' one-shot. I hope you like it as much as the first chapter. Thank you so much for the overwhelming response and reviews I've got. Got quite teary eyed while writing it so I hope you all enjoy and appreciate it…**

**Words: 4000**

**Warnings: Quite angsty, themes of the war.**

**Rating: T**

_**Love After Love**_

Quinn sat on the dry earth, running her fingers gently along the fence in front of her. It was winter now, and the scene looked different to how it had, all those years ago. The camp was abandoned; nothing but empty space. It felt eery, haunted. As a chill came over her, which she did not put down to the cold November breeze, she pulled her coat around her more tightly, adjusting her scarf.

She sat for some time, alone and a shivering a little, in front of the mesh wire fence. Reaching down, she touched the ground she sat on, running her finger gently along the cold, hard, dusty earth. It helped, a little; as though it brought back some of the nearness they had, as though a part of them was in the ground.

She was still waiting. Waiting for the pain to go away, waiting for what she knew she would never find. Now, a little over nine years since she'd last seen her, Quinn sat, pushing her hands gently against the fence, still waiting for Rachel.

A tear fell from her eye as she closed them for a moment, letting her mind wonder back to when she'd still been alive, when they were together.

As she opened her eyes and looked out at the vast and lonely emptiness where the camp used to be, some of the shelters and barns still there, left abandoned after the liberation, she could see it all. She could see everything that had gone on there. She could hear the screams, the cries, the desperate comforts they'd whispered to one another, hoping against hope that they would escape this hell. She could see them all, as they had been, walking around in their striped pyjamas; thin, shaven and bruised.

She even dared to let her mind wonder, as she did each year when she returned here, to think of that night; the night she'd lost everything she ever had. The night she'd lost Rachel…

She could hear Rachel's screams, her desperate, choked cries, running through her, those chilling wails. And that sound, that terrible sound, still echoing around in her mind – the gunshot, its deafening crack resounding, shaking her to the core.

Another tear fell, rolling slowly down her cheek as her fingers curled around the mesh wire, as though, somehow, by gripping a little tighter, she could bring it all back, as if it would make her a little closer to Rachel.

She'd let go of all the guilt she'd felt for that night, for Rachel's murder, a long time ago. For many years she'd been consumed with guilt, which turned to self-hate and then to a deep, cold bitterness inside of her. She'd felt wholly responsible for what happened; Rachel was, after all, killed for kissing her. What hurt the most, was knowing that not a week later, the war had ended, and in less than a fortnight, the camp had been liberated. Rachel had missed her chance for life, for a _free_, happy life by just a few days. Quinn couldn't help but think that if only she hadn't been so selfish, if that kiss, those intimate moments they shared could have waited until a few days later, they wouldn't have been caught. They would have been freed, and they could live the life together that they'd both dreamed of; a life faraway from all of this.

It took her a long time to accept what had happened, and to realise that Rachel was gone, and it wasn't her fault. Of course, then she had turned all her anger and the bitterness that had been festered for years in her heart, to the soldiers, and everyone responsible for the war. It had taken her even longer to get over those issues, and move on into a healthy life, to just let go. Unsurprisingly, hardest of all to forgive was her father. Her contempt for him still remained a little, deep rooted in her heart; a cold bitterness that would only fade with time.

She was healthy now; healthy and happy. She had a beautiful wife, someone who cared for her sincerely, who'd helped her let go. But she knew that you never really move on from something like that. You can let go of the anger, you can forgive, but you can never forget or erase what happened. She couldn't just make all the memories, all the emotions and feelings she had, disappear. And even now, almost ten years on, they were still there, as vivid and strong as it had been all those years ago.

This was her day; Rachel's day – the anniversary of the day the camp was liberated. And though she didn't blame herself anymore, and she'd accepted all that had happened, this one day, just once a year, Quinn would allow herself to feel all that guilt and pain again.

The day that Rachel was taken from her and executed, she'd had to be carried home she was so distraught. Covered in dirt and still crying and screaming, two officers had taken her back to her father's house. The moment she was in the house and saw her father, she stood up, and for a moment was silent. Then she launched. Finding new strength to stand in her grief and rage, she ran at him and began pounding at him, punching and hitting him for all it was worth. He tried to control her, to get her off, but she was stronger than he'd expected. Screaming herself hoarse, she continued to shout at him, yelling through the tears as the guards pulled her off her father and managed to restrain her. She called him a murderer, she disowned him. She damned his work, she damned the war and damned the Fuehrer. He was absolutely livid, but she didn't care, she didn't even notice. Eventually, she'd collapsed in a heap, a shivering, weeping wreck on the floor, until she fell unconscious from exhaustion and grief.

She awoke the next day and went downstairs to tell her father she was leaving. As she entered the dining room, he and her mother looked up at her. Her mother had obviously been crying and her father had tears in his eyes – something she'd not expected.

He tried to tell her he cared about her. He tried to calm her down, but when he tried to touch her, she screamed and pushed him again.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she cried, and he instantly let go, a little unsure of what to do with her.

She disowned the entire family and packed a bag to leave that afternoon. Nothing her father or anyone else said could possibly make her stay.

"Quinn, you must listen to reason!" he pleaded, obviously angry as well as desperate.

"I will not listen to anything you have to say," she replied simply. "I will not listen to reason because there is no good reason for what you do. You are not my father anymore, you aren't even worthy of the title 'human'." She finished, her contempt obvious in her voice as she spoke through gritted teeth. Then she turned and put the last of her things into her bag.

In a desperate attempt to make her stay, her father had given strict instructions that she was to have no use of any cars or other forms of transportation that others used to get in and out of town from cottage, out here in the blood-soaked countryside. So she had packed all her belongings, the things she _really _needed into one large bag and informed them she was going to walk if she had to.

She packed enough food to last her a day, three if she ate as little as Rachel had, and a large bottle of water. Then she left.

Her sister tried to convince her to stay. She didn't even have to say anything. She just stared at her little sister, begging her with that pained expression not to leave as she looked down at her from her bedroom window. But Quinn was too numb to care. She simply turned and walked away.

She'd walked. And walked. Consumed with grief, weakened from all the emotional toil of the last few days, she didn't care if she died; whether from hunger, thirst, exhaustion or if she was shot to death. She managed to scrounge some food from a passersby, but her salvation came when she was found by British troops. Given her state, they helped her, fed her and let her rest before they questioned her. When she woke all she could do was cry that Rachel was gone, that her father had killed them; he'd butchered all those Jews for no reason.

Upon seeing how distraught she was over the persecution that had gone on here, how the war had devastated her, they invited her to show them the way to the camp they were on their way to liberate. The war had officially ended three days ago, and since then they had been marching through Germany, liberating camps. This was to be their first; their mission here.

"You know where this camp is?" a translator asked.

Determined to rid herself of everything in this dreadful country and all she knew had happened here, she answered, in perfect English, "Yes," she breathed, "but I don't want to go back there."

"If you could help us, if you'd show us where it is, we'd be very grateful," another solider said.

"We want to help," the translator said, reaching out and touching her shoulder in an attempt to comfort and reassure her. "We want to set those people free. Would you like to be there, to see all those people freed?"

Suddenly Quinn stopped crying. It wasn't a conscious effort on her part; neither were her tears. But something the soldier had said sent waves of elation, of calmness running through her. _Freedom_. She would see all those people, thousands upon thousands of innocent people who'd endured years of torture, freed.

Within two days, they reached the camp. Quinn was vaguely aware that her father had been arrested, but she wasn't there when it happened. The soldiers were kind enough not to talk about it around her, well aware of who she was, but she didn't care too much to go back to the house to see her family. She no longer considered them a significant part of her life.

As Quinn sat, now, 9 years on from that day, she stared out beyond the fence sadly. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and trailed along the fence; the walk that seemed to take forever, until she finally reached the entrance. She stood, breathing in the cold air through her nose. She could still smell it – even after all this time, the stench of dead flesh still hung in the air, and there was a definite sense about the place of the terrible things that had happened here. There were even some blood stains left on the old abandoned equipment, visible even from this far away.

All those whose lives had been cruelly taken all those years ago had, of course, been given a proper burial, a funeral for the masses. She had attended, and wept for Rachel, whose body was never found. It sickened her to her stomach to think of what the officers may have done with her corpse, and she had desperately wanted to put her to rest, but she soon had to accept that she was never going to see Rachel again; dead or alive.

Now she stood, staring out into what felt like the abyss, remembering everything that had happened here. As she stood in the entrance, she closed her eyes, remembering how she's stood, nine years ago today, on the day the camp was liberated, in this very spot.

Surrounded by British soldiers, translating for most of them as they led the people out, Quinn stood with tears streaming down her cheeks. Partly they were cold, bitter tears of sadness and grief for all those who she hadn't managed to save. But mostly, mostly they were tears of happiness. She'd honestly come to the point in desperation where she'd lost all hope in believing she would ever see a day like this. But it had come, it had _finally _come! Now she stood, leading out people by the hundreds, hugging all those she could as they left, blessing them with tears in her eyes as she sent them to the trucks, where they would receive medical attention, food, water, where they'd be taken to safety by real, true soldiers who were genuinely here to help.

There was one moment which remained in her mind, engrained there forever, a moment that had left her shaken and stirred up emotions within her she didn't know she was capable of feeling. As they were leading out the people, she noticed a small girl, who couldn't have been more than eight or nine. She was staring at her, with something in her eyes that Quinn couldn't quite put her finger on. As the girl drew nearer it dawned on her what emotion she was seeing in the little girl's expression – it was _wonder_. She was marveling at her. But what was so special about what she was doing that induced such a reaction?

The girl approached her, a little shyly, and Quinn smiled warmly at her.

"Are you an angel?" the little girl whispered, her excitement showing in her voice.

Quinn stood for a moment, speechless. She was so taken aback. Why on earth would this girl think her an angel? She was helping free them, yes, but … so were dozens of other people! Some of them may have even known her as her father's daughter, which meant that most of them would probably hate her, recoil at her touch. But not this girl. She was looking up at Quinn with tears in her eyes. They weren't tears of sadness, she was looking up at Quinn as though finally seeing some promised sight, something she'd dreamed about all her life.

"Er … no, no I'm not an angel." Quinn said, quietly, addressing the little girl. "I'm sorry. I'm just … I'm just a girl."

The words hurt as soon as they left her lips. She wasn't an angel. She was just a girl. The same feeling she'd had when Rachel was taken away and she'd to stand by, powerless to help. Rachel had been her precious princess, and Quinn was supposed to be her saving grace; her angel, her salvation. Only she'd failed.

But the little girl didn't seem to think so. She just stared up at Quinn as she said, "No. I … I know you!" she said excitedly.

Quinn squinted, suspicious. How could she know her? Had more seen her at the fence, known of her time spent with Rachel?

"Are … are you _Quinn?_" she asked, looking up at her in wonderment.

For a moment, Quinn could have sworn she felt her heart stop in her chest. "What?" she breathed, confused. "How … how do you know my name?"

The little girl was now right in front of her, and Quinn had to step back away from the crowds of people bustling out to be moved to safety to talk to her.

"Rachel, she talked about you," she said simply, a small smile spreading across her face.

Quinn spoke before the girl had a chance to say anything else. "You knew Rachel?" she asked. She felt as though her entire world was holding its breath, waiting for the response. She could feel her heart now, beating heavily against her ribcage as though desperate to get out as her breathing increased pace.

The little girl nodded. "She was like a sister to me. She took care of me; helped me. She even gave me her food sometimes. She always talked about you; she said she had an angel watching over her, her angel Quinn who was going to rescue her and take her away. She told me all about you. She said you had beautiful golden hair … your hazel eyes and pretty smile and pink lips and pale skin. She said Quinn was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, _'like when a little bit of Heaven touches the earth and you get to glimpse a little bit of paradise; one spec of beauty in the darkness'_." She quoted.

Quinn stood, with tears in her eyes, staring blankly at the little girl. Had Rachel really said all of those things? She really saw her in that way?

"But I never thought you were actually real!" the little girl said, almost squealing as she reached out and touched her hand. "I always thought you were an angel, or a story. I thought Rachel had met a real angel and she was right you know; you did come to save us!"

Quinn blinked as a tear fell and she swallowed hard, pushing down the painful lump in her throat that was restricting her ability to speak. "But I couldn't save her…" she croaked.

The girl smiled. "Yes you did. Rachel smiled," she said simply. Those words hit Quinn heavily, each syllable beating against her heart. "Nobody here smiles, it's so hard and horrible here. But when she came to see me in the night, when she tucked me and cuddled me and told me about her angel, she was smiling. She never stopped talking about you. I think it kept her okay; made her feel good to talk about you when things were really hard."

Quinn simply stood there for a moment, frozen in the shock of all this information she was receiving; words she wasn't really emotionally ready to hear. Then, without saying a word, she reached down and picked up the little girl, holding her in her arms for a moment and the little girl started crying too. The emotion of it all; finally being freed from this hell, was too much.

"You came," she whispered through gurgles and splutters as she cried into Quinn's shoulder, "You came, like she promised. You set us free…"

"Sshhh, sshh, it's okay," Quinn said, gripping her tight as she walked with her towards one of the soldiers near the truck that was taking people away. "It's all going to be okay now. You're free. It's all over; all of it. It's over. It's okay. It's going to be okay," she said as tears began to fall again down her cheeks.

As she neared one of the soldiers, she let the little girl go, giving her to the uniformed man. He took her gently in his arms, encompassing her as he too comforted her, stroking her hair as he held her tight, telling her that it was going to be okay.

Quinn stood, watching her go, as tears streaked down her cheeks. There was so much emotion washing over her, so much going around in her head right now, it was an effort just to stay upright. Overwhelmed with grief about Rachel's loss, but comforted and encouraged by the knowledge she'd talked about her, that she'd given hope to another little girl. Despite being so desperately sad, she couldn't be happier than at this moment. She was watching hundreds of people walk away from this hell; hundreds of survivors, taking their first free steps for years.

Just before she was gone from sight, the little girl who now sat in the soldier's arms, turned to her and called, "She loved you, you know. She really loved you."

Quinn closed her eyes as another tear fell, acknowledging what had been said as she let the emotion of it all wash over her. She could feel it; the edges of her mouth turning up a little. It was there, even if it was small – a _smile_. Utterly overwhelmed, underfed and exhausted, she collapsed to her knees, where strong arms caught her.

Quinn opened her eyes, turning and burying her face in her wife's chest. Adriana, the beautiful brunette who caught her, said nothing as she wrapped her arms around Quinn. No words were necessary. She understood the pain, the guilt, the anguish and relief she felt when she ventured here every year, on this same date. She had to do it; she did it out of love, out of respect, out of the duty she felt to all those victims of the war. Every year, Quinn would return to this very spot. She would take her time to remember Rachel, all they'd been through together, all they'd done, all they were.

Quinn lifted her bald head and looked up at Adriana – her saving grace. Those arms had caught her so many times; she had rescued her when she needed it most, and after time, when Quinn had finally let go, they'd fallen in love.

It took a long time to trust her, to be able to feel that way about anyone, and to let go of the pressing fear she would be taken from her at any moment, but they eventually got there, and though marriage was far from legal in any country in Europe for both of them, they had their rings, their vows and their love; that was enough for them.

Shortly after the liberation, many years ago, Quinn had vowed to never forget, to never let it slip from her or anyone else's mind the suffering that had been endured and experienced during those dark years. She'd shaved her head and since that day, never grown it back. This was her promise to Rachel, to all those who'd suffered, her way of showing them she would never stop caring.

When she'd returned a year later, she'd got a tattoo; the star of David, with a number inside it – 66745 – _Rachel's _number. Now that same sign stuck to her skin in the same place it had laid on Rachel's striped, tattered clothes. Those wretched striped pyjamas.

When she found Adriana, she had finally found peace with herself, but she was far from peace with this place, this god-forsaken country which had taken her childhood, her innocence and her heart. It had taken Rachel. She couldn't live here anymore. So, together, they had both moved to France; far away, like she'd promised Rachel they would do someday. Now living far out, buried deep in the French countryside, they lived peacefully, away from the bitterness and complications society could bring.

But every year, without fail, they would return here. Though she could never feel what Quinn felt, Adriana understood; she knew that Quinn had to do this, and she made no attempts to stop her. She would simply sit beside her, as she did now, and offer what comfort she could give for the memories Quinn carried.

"Are you ready?" she asked softly, looking down at her wife's tear-stained face.

Quinn sat up, still holding onto her for support. "Yes," she said, offering her a smile; a genuine smile.

Together they stood, and walked back into town where the gravesite was – a mass grave, where the ashes of all the bodies from the camp were buried. A large but simplistic statue of a young girl, blindfolded and bound on her knees, watched over the dead, guarding their memory. It was here that Quinn placed a small bouquet of flowers, offering respectful remembrance to not just her love, but all who had suffered and died in the concentration camps all over Germany.

They took a step back and Quinn reached out, holding her lit candle up to the lantern which Adriana held out. As it lit, its small fueled centre going up in flames, it slowly began to rise. They both stood, holding a candle in one hand and the edge of the lantern in the other.

"For Rachel," Adriana offered.

"For Rachel." Quinn nodding a little, with a small smile as they both let go, pushing the lantern up in unison, watching it rise.

Holding one another's hands, they stood for some time, saying nothing. They let the silence engulf them as they looked skyward and watched, with tears in their eyes, as the lantern rose into the night sky; one light in the great dark expanse.


End file.
